


Rainy Night

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, First War with Voldemort, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2004-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius drops by Remus' flat on a rainy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rainy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

It was one of these never-ending November evenings following a barely existent November day. Remus had gone to work, had come home from work, had made dinner and was now reclining on the couch with a book, all to the staccato rhythm of incessant rain. Grey light had faded to darkness and still the rain was falling, hammering against the windows of his living room.

Remus was glad not to be outside, and gladder still that it was Friday and he would be able to sleep in tomorrow. Full moon was two weeks away, but he felt tired, achy. His many scars and oft-broken bones complained about the weather and he was very appreciative of his fire and blanket.

He sighed and laid down his book to stare into the fire. He felt so old sometimes. No, scratch that, he thought, he'd felt like it his entire life, or at least as much of it as he could remember, always too old for his age. He was eighteen years old and glad to sit in front of his peaceful, warm hearth on a rainy Friday night instead of being out with his friends. Who, ironically enough, all had the unique gift to make him feel both incredibly young and infinitely older than them at the same time.

Remus lifted his eyes from the fireplace and looked out of the window. On nights like this he missed the castle, its roaring fires, the warmth of the common room. On the other hand he knew a night like this would have been impossible at Hogwarts. For one, he would never have been this cold. And of course, if they were still in school, either Sirius or James would have dragged him into one of their schemes by now, or Sirius would have coaxed him away from his book and up to the dormitory to share a few butterbeers and plan for further mischief.

Six months had done little to alleviate the surrealism of not being at Hogwarts anymore, and it was even stranger not to have his fellow Marauders around all the time. Privacy was something Remus wasn't accustomed to, and as much as he appreciated it sometimes, he was too used to three other people breathing in the dark to be able to sleep as well as he would like to.

Remus leaned his head back against the armrest of the couch, listening to the sound of the rain splattering against his window, and to the flames crackling away in the fireplace. Tiredness settled over him like the fuzzy blanket covering his body. Maybe he would just close his eyes for a second...

~warmth, hands sliding over him, blue eyes in the darkness, a bark and heavy laughter, arms closing around him, warm body pressing up to his ~

Remus woke up to insistent knocking. Confused, momentarily disoriented, he sat up and tried to make sense of the world. It took a few moments for him to realise that someone was knocking on his front door.

He groaned and got off the couch, wrapping himself in his blanket and grabbing his wand. If that was Prongs going on about how nervous he was about his wedding, Remus would skin him and hang his antlers on the wall for decoration.

The knocking became more insistent. "I'm coming," he said loudly, then murmured, "Bloody impatient bastard," under his breath as he made his way to the door. It was almost midnight; who would visit him at this hour? He wanted to go back to sleep, wanted to re-capture the warmth of his dream.

He opened the door with the firm intention of telling whoever it was to sod off, but the words died in his throat when he stood face to face to Sirius. Shivering, fidgeting, soaked through Sirius.

Remus couldn't help but stare. Sirius' leather jacket was open and the dark blue t-shirt he was wearing underneath stuck to his torso, outlining his nipples. His black hair was plastered to his head and his cheeks were rosy from the cold, making his eyes look very, very blue in contrast. Raindrops were dripping from Sirius' lips and from his eyelashes, running down his too-handsome features.

Sirius smiled sheepishly. "`Lo, Moony."

Remus cleared his throat and willed himself to stop staring. "Wh... what are you doing here, Sirius? It's the middle of the night."

Sirius shrugged and tried to get his hands into the pockets of his wet, tight jeans. "Was in the neighbourhood," he murmured.

"Neighbourhood?" Remus inquired, firmly suppressing all thoughts of licking away errant raindrops from his best friends' upper lip. "You live clear across town."

Sirius looked to the floor. "Well, I apparated here," he said, trying to hide a shiver.

Shaking his head in remorse for asking so many questions when Sirius was obviously freezing, Remus took Sirius by the arm and pulled him into the flat. "Well, no matter now. Come in, you're wet through."

"Thanks," Sirius murmured and went straight for Remus' fireplace, holding his hands out to the flames to absorb the warmth.

Remus opened his mouth again to ask why Sirius hadn't apparated directly into Remus' living room, but he saw that shivers wracked Sirius' slender frame and decided that questions could wait.

He stepped behind Sirius and laid both hands on the taller boy's shoulders. He felt Sirius' body tense under his touch, felt the nervous energy that coursed under the other boy's skin.

"Give me your jacket," he said, and Sirius shrugged out of it without turning away from the fire. Remus unwound the blanket from his own shoulders and draped it over Sirius'. Then he turned his still shivering friend around. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes," he said sternly.

Sirius flashed him a weak grin and raised a suggestive eyebrow, but Remus noticed that it was more a reflex, that Sirius' thoughts were far away.

Still, he answered with a grin of his own, "Come on, now, don't be modest. Just me, good old Moony. I won't bite." Perhaps if you asked me for it, Remus added in his mind. Which you won't.

Sirius smiled faintly. "Not modest, just too bloody cold," he murmured and wrapped himself more tightly in his blanket.

"Stay by the fire, then, and when you're warmed up, take off your clothes and put this on," he said. He grabbed his bathrobe, which was hanging over a chair nearby, and handed it to Sirius. "I'll go make you some tea." At Sirius' grimace he added, "and I'll bring the Firewhisky."

Sirius smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Moony."

Remus smiled back and motioned for Sirius to sit down. "I'll be right back."

He wandered into the kitchen and deliberately did not turn when he heard the slide of wet fabric against skin and a splatting sound that could only be Sirius' shirt hitting the tiles next to the fireplace. He didn't want to see how the firelight would reflect on Sirius' naked torso, how the flames would play over his muscles, his pale skin, how the drops of rain would catch the light.

He swallowed. He thought he'd moved past this. He'd been wrong.

Maybe he needed the whisky more than Sirius.

\+ - + 

When Remus came back with two steaming cups of tea and the bottle of whisky, Sirius was sitting in front of the fireplace, wet clothes bundled in a heap next to him, wearing Remus' bathrobe. He was staring into the flames, obviously deep in thought.

Remus' alarm bells sounded. Quiet, thoughtful Sirius wasn't something he was accustomed to, and it usually meant that something bad had happened. Besides, even Sirius wasn't in the habit of showing up unannounced in the middle of the night.

Resolved to find out what was wrong, he kneeled down next to Sirius and offered him one of the two cups. Sirius took it gratefully, and for a moment their fingers brushed.

Remus drew in a sharp breath, set down the whisky and his own tea to grab Sirius' free hand. "Your fingers are like ice! How long were you out there, you idiot? You told me you apparated here." He began to rub Sirius' fingers between his hands.

Sirius looked up and smiled faintly. "I did, but I... went for a little walk."

"A walk? In that downpour? All right, what's wrong?" Remus asked, truly concerned now.

"Nothing," Sirius said too quickly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." He returned his eyes to the fire.

Remus suppressed a sigh. Apparently, Sirius was in one of his melancholy moods. It didn't happen very often that Sirius was... well, serious, but when something was bothering him, it was usually best to let him come out with it in his own time.

He smiled and continued to rub the too-cold fingers, wondering how long Sirius had stood outside before he'd decided to come up to Remus' flat. Sirus' pride was notorious, he hated asking for help, but it was quite obvious that he needed if not help, then at least something. Remus was content to wait and find out what it was. If there was one thing he'd had a lot of practice in, it was Sirius- handling.

Sirius sighed and took a sip of his tea.

"Feel better?" Remus asked with a smile.

Sirius looked over at him, smiling back. "Yeah, thanks." He looked Remus up and down and only now seemed to notice Remus' rumpled t- shirt and pyjama bottoms. His smile melted into a remorseful look. "I woke you, didn't I? I'm an idiot, I shouldn't have come. You need your rest," he murmured and tried to get up, but Remus held on to his hand.

"It's all right. Come on, don't be silly. Stay at least until you're warm again." Remus tugged Sirius back down and he followed, sitting heavily, still clad in only Remus' bathrobe and a pair of boxers.

Sirius didn't say anything, just nodded and sipped his tea, his eyes returning to the fire as if he'd lost something in there and needed to find it again.

Remus leaned back against the couch, still holding Sirius' hand between his.

One of Sirius' rare silences settled between them, engulfing them, stealing the need for words or movement. Wordlessly, Sirius stared into the fire. Wordlessly, Remus sipped his tea and rubbed his thumb over Sirius' still-cold hand. The rain splattering against the window was unnaturally loud in the two boys' stillness. Remus watched for a while how the firelight played over Sirius' features, but after a few minutes he turned his head to the window to watch the rain instead to avoid staring. He'd promised himself not to do it anymore, but sometimes he couldn't help it. Especially in situations like this, when Sirius looked so open, so vulnerable. He wondered briefly why Sirius hadn't gone to James with his trouble, but he was glad that Sirius had come to him. Then he didn't think anymore and let himself sink into the silence, the stillness of two people who had seen each other at their worst and had come out on the other side still friends.

Remus enjoyed silence, he was comfortable with it. He understood it, knew how to use it, understood how Sirius used it. He knew that while Sirius seemed to be the extroverted, talkative type, he was too hampered by pride, stubbornness and an unwillingness to show weakness to talk about things that truly bothered him or made him unhappy. Sirius, like himself, had grown up in a situation that didn't forgive weakness. Sirius, like himself, needed time to battle with his pride and his self-preservation before he talked about his feelings. Remus was content to give him that time. He had a lot of patience.

After a while, Sirius seemed to notice that Remus was still holding his hand, and he drew it away quickly, reaching for the Firewhisky to cover up the hasty movement. Still, he didn't say a word but offered the bottle to Remus silently.

Remus nodded and held up his tea. Sirius poured some of the whisky into Remus' tea, then looked at his own mug, drew a grimace and took a swig straight from the bottle, all without saying a word. The stillness was broken, though. Remus noticed that the fidget was back in Sirius' body, nervous energy that wanted to break out but didn't know in what direction. He noticed it in the hands that gripped the mug more firmly, in the restless shift of Sirius' body as he tried to find a new sitting position. Most of all he noticed in the way Sirius didn't reach for his cigarettes, even though it was obvious that he wanted one.

Remus decided to rescue him. "You can smoke, you know."

Sirius looked up from his mug and grinned. "You know me too well, Moony. I'll have one by the window, ok? I know the smoke bothers your nose."

Remus smiled. "Good puppy."

Sirius' grin broadened and he did a very good imitation of a happy Padfoot-whine. Remus patted his head and jerked his head in direction of the window. "Go and have a fag, you addict, but dry your hair before you open the window."

Sirius sighed dramatically. "Yes, mum."

"Shut up and get a smoke while I find you some socks, the floor is cold."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied and stood, dislodging the bathrobe and giving Remus a too-good view of his finely toned stomach muscles.

Don't stare, we agreed that you wouldn't stare anymore, it's adolescent and stupid and dangerous, a voice in his head whispered. Remus told it to shut up, got off the floor and went to look for socks.

\+ - + 

When he got back, Sirius had changed out of the bathrobe and back into his by now dry jeans and t-shirt and was staring out of the open window, half-smoked cigarette in his hands. He was barefoot and his hair was tousled from the drying spell. Remus stared helplessly, captivated by the play of firelight and shadows over Sirius' body, by the way the streetlight from outside made his face look almost translucently pale.

Remus swallowed, tried to look away, but he couldn't. He watched as Sirius' fingers played restlessly with the cigarette he was holding. Sirius continued to stare out of the window, lost in thought, unaware of Remus' presence. He took a long drag from the cigarette, then made a face and threw it out of the window, as if it hadn't brought the satisfaction he'd expected of it. He ran a hand through his messy hair, and Remus' fingers twitched with the desire to repeat the action.

It had caught up with him again, this... fascination. Infatuation. Whatever one wanted to call it. Remus had always liked to watch Sirius, even when they'd still been children. Something about Sirius had always managed to capture and hold captive Remus' attention. He'd thought he'd put it behind him, this urge to stare at the other boy, but it surfaced at the oddest moments, like now. He had to say something, right now, or he would never speak again and spend the rest of his life frozen here, staring at Sirius. He cleared his throat and looked for something to say, anything.

But words died on his lips when Sirius turned suddenly and looked directly at him, his gaze intense, searching. Remus froze, unable to look away from these eyes, bluer than they had any right to be. There was something in these eyes, something...there, in the room with them, between them, a tension, a spark. Something unexplored, laden with possibilities Remus had stopped considering a long time ago. There had been a time, though...

The wind rattled on the windowpane, a log cracked in the fire, and the moment broke. Sirius' gaze softened, his features relaxed into a smile that could mean all sorts of things Remus didn't want to decipher right now. "Hey," Sirius said, his voice sounding loud in the stillness of the room.

Remus smiled back, relieved and oddly disappointed at the same time as the prickles under his skin faded and the intensely fascinating creature before him faded back into his best friend Sirius. "Is it still raining?" he asked. A stupid question, really, but he needed to say something.

Sirius nodded and returned his gaze to the window, staring unseeingly outside again. "Yeah. Wouldn't count on it to stop anytime soon, either."

He chuckled suddenly. "Remember that horrible Quidditch game against Hufflepuff I dragged you to last year, when it was raining so hard your three sweaters were soaked and you caught that dreadful cold?"

Remus shrugged. "At least we won."

Sirius shook his head, letting out a little huff of air that could have been a sigh or a laugh. "Did I ever apologise for that?"

Remus shook his head wryly.

Sirius gave Remus a look. A long, intense, totally focused, indecipherable look, once-over, then he said, in a low voice, "I'm sorry," and turned his gaze to the window again.

Remus swallowed, speechless. Sirius never apologised for anything non- life threatening. What was wrong with him tonight?

He shook his head as if to clear it and forced himself to move to the sofa beside the window. He sat down on it, near to where Sirius was standing by the window, glad that he could see the other boy's face. He handed Sirius the socks he'd brought from the bedroom and while he watched Sirius put them on, he asked himself again what was bothering Sirius, but he didn't go so far as to put the question into words. Sirius would either tell him what was wrong or he wouldn't. Remus had to give him time.

Sirius turned around and reached for the bottle of Firewhisky still sitting in front of the fireplace. He took a long swig from the bottle and offered it to Remus, who shook his head and picked up his tea. Sirius sighed and fidgeted with the bottle, obviously unsure of what to do now.

Remus knew the signs. Sirius hated inactivity more than anything; he was a doer, a hands-on, let's-solve-this kind of person with more energy than was probably good for him. It was always coursing under his skin, waiting for an outlet, for something to apply itself to, waiting for a focus. Remus decided to provide that focus. "Want to play a game of chess?"

Sirius looked up, smiling softly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Remus moved to make room for Sirius on the sofa and accioed his chessboard and pieces from the desk in the corner where it usually sat. The room was dim, so playing by this light would be a challenge, but he didn't want to turn on the lamp beside the couch. He liked the diffuse ambience of the room, liked the way it blurred the edges.

They set up the pieces, exchanging only the most necessary words, and again Remus was glad neither James nor Peter were present. Sirius at least had learned how to shut up sometimes.

A hand touched his as he moved the last piece in place. He looked up to meet Sirius' gaze. He looked so vulnerable that Remus had to suppress the urge to reach out and smooth the crease between Sirius' eyebrows.

"Moony?"

"Yes?"

Sirius swallowed audibly. His eyes darted away and back again to Remus' as if drawn there by force. "Thanks," he whispered, barely audible.

They both knew Sirius didn't mean the game of chess. Remus smiled and nodded once, an acknowledgement of understanding as well as a `you're welcome'. He moved a pawn out, both on the chessboard and conversationally. "Is Prongs driving you crazy as well? I got four owls from him in the last two days."

Sirius nodded, eyes intent on the board. "Yeah, he's gone bloody bonkers about the wedding business. Turning into a bloody woman, I'm telling you."

Remus grabbed the whisky and watched Sirius settle down into the familiar comfort of safe ground. He took a sip out of the bottle, enjoying the warm burning down his throat. His eyes fell on the old- fashioned grandfather clock next to the fireplace, the one that had decorated their dorm room at Hogwarts since second year. The hand for Sirius Black slowly moved from `sodding wet' toward `comfortable'.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.


	2. Chapter two

"Does it seem weird to you, not being at Hogwarts anymore? I sometimes wake up in the morning and wonder if I've done my Charms homework before remembering that I won't have Charms homework ever again. Check, by the way." Sirius lounged lazily on the couch, eyes flicking idly over the board before resettling on Remus.

Remus smiled and reached for the whisky bottle, his eyes on the board, pondering his next move. "I know the feeling. Nights are weirdest for me, though. I'm not used to sleeping in a room all by myself."

He moved his knight to take Sirius' castle and took a swig from the bottle. It was half-empty by now and Remus felt the alcohol in his system make him sleepy. Sirius obviously felt the effects too, for he seemed much more relaxed.

Remus looked up from the board and suppressed a sigh. Sirius was at it again, staring at him oddly, as if Remus had something he wanted but he wasn't sure what it was yet. "Your move," he said softly and Sirius looked away, breaking the contact.

This was familiar. Too familiar. The looks, the small touches Sirius sneaked in when he reached for the whisky bottle. The strange mixture of tension and comfort that seemed to exist only between the two of them. James and Peter had never unsettled Remus like this.

There had been a time when he'd thought he'd known what it was that Sirius wanted from him. In their sixth year, Sirius' attention had suddenly, intently focused on Remus. It had started with long stares, casual touches, shared secrets, quiet conversations and long, comfortable silences. Slowly, they had inched towards intimacy, towards a warmth that might be heat. Remus had been overwhelmed, surprised, unsettled, flattered, deliriously grateful, restlessly infatuated, and incredibly scared.

And then the Shack incident had happened and it had all burst like a bubble of soap, beautiful but insubstantial. Sirius had been crushed and penitent, but entirely platonic again, and so Remus had subscribed that half-year they had spent flirting with the idea of `more' to his imagination and Sirius' need of a `project'.

Remus hated being a `project'. Hated being Sirius' project most of all. It had taken him a long time to forgive Sirius for that, much longer than it had taken him to forgive the Shack incident. Eventually, he'd understood that Sirius hadn't done it on purpose, that Sirius' nature was to do, to feel, to radiate, not to reflect on how his actions, his natural charisma and good looks affected others. Sirius used his charms relentlessly if he wanted something, but otherwise he was unaware of the many, many girls (and a fair number of boys) who cried their eyes out because Sirius Black never noticed them.

He had assumed that back then Sirius had merely been looking for something he could focus his excess energy on. But what the hell was he doing now?

"Moony?"

Remus looked up, momentarily confused. "Yes?"

Sirius was smiling at him, that soft, warm smile Remus had only ever seen Sirius direct at him. "Welcome back. Where have you drifted off? I asked you to pass me the whisky twice. And it's your move, by the way."

Remus shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the fuzziness of alcohol and reminiscence. "Sorry," he murmured and handed Sirius the whisky. "I was..." he made a noncomittant gesture at his head.

"Mooning," Sirius finished the sentence, still smiling warmly. "You know, sometimes I think we would have called you Moony even if you weren't a werewolf."

Remus couldn't help but smile back. "And in that case, what would we have called you? Cheery?"

Sirius looked slightly offended. "I'm not one of Snow White's bloody dwarves, Remus."

Remus stared and tried to picture Sirius with one of these ridiculous Muggle cartoon dwarf caps. He burst into laughter. "Siry the eighth dwarf," he panted out between laughs, and Sirius' frown melted, his lips twitched and then the other boy was laughing just as hard as Remus.

"Bloody Muggle cartoons take all the scare out of the old Wizarding legends," Sirius murmured when they calmed down.

"Hey, say nothing against stupid Muggle cartoons," Remus said and hit Sirius arm playfully. "My dad used to take me to the cinema to watch them when I was little." Remus' amusement faded and he looked off into space, remembering. "It was one of the few things my dad did with me after I was bitten. He was always so worried about me, so he wouldn't take me to Quidditch games or play with me in the park. He'd only take me to see movies I was too old for and teach me chess." He picked up one of the already slain pieces. "That's my dad's set, you know. He used it to teach me how to play. That was before he had to work all the time to pay for all the cures they tried out. When he still took the time to talk to me." Remus stopped himself and turned to Sirius. "Sorry, I..." he trailed off when he saw the expression in Sirius' eyes. The other boy was staring at him, eyes suspiciously red- rimmed, biting down on his bottom lip as if trying to stop himself from crying.

Remus reached out in reflex. "Sirius..."

Sirius drew back, turned his back to Remus. He cleared his throat and said in a low voice, trying to hide the tremors in it, "Mind if I go out for a few minutes to get some fags?" He picked up his jacket and put it on while he spoke.

Remus looked out of the window. "It's still raining."

"I know."

Remus noticed that Sirius' hand was shaking. "I'll go with you."

Sirius half-turned but didn't look at Remus. "It's raining, Moony. I don't want you to catch a cold."

"I do own something called an umbrella, Sirius," Remus said and went to the anteroom to put on his shoes and cloak. "Come on."

Sirius snorted, still avoiding Remus' searching gaze. "I know where the cigarette machine is, Moony."

Remus sighed. "I know you do. Let's go."

There seemed to be a brief struggle going on in Sirius' head. Then, abruptly, Sirius nodded and strolled past Remus towards the door, hair falling into his face so that Remus couldn't see his eyes.

"Let's go then," Sirius pressed out, and Remus fell in step behind him, watching the tense shoulders fight against shivers.

\+ -+ 

It was cold; Remus could see his breath steam out of his mouth like smoke of the cigarettes he'd given up a long time ago because the smoke had wreaked havoc with his unnaturally sharp sense of smell. He had to almost run to keep up with Sirius, who was walking so briskly that Remus considered turning around to see if the Grim was after them.

"Sirius," he panted, umbrella gripped tightly between his cold fingers, "could you slow down a bit?"

Sirius stopped abruptly, his form only a dark shadow between the cones of light two streetlamps cut out of the night.

"Sorry," he heard Sirius murmur, so quietly it would have been lost in the endless splattering of the rain were it not for Remus' sensitive hearing.

Remus caught up to Sirius with a few steps, but stayed in the light. "It's cold," Remus said quietly to the tense back in front of him.

"Yeah." Short, clipped assent. Tension in the voice as much as in the shoulders, muscles, spine.

"Sirius?" Remus asked again.

Sirius neither moved nor spoke nor gave any indication that he'd heard Remus. He didn't take the few steps that separated him from the cigarette machine, he just stood there.

Remus reached out to touch a tense shoulder and felt a tremor run through Sirius' body at the contact. "Padfoot..." Remus whispered.

Sirius flinched away from his touch and almost ran the few steps to the cigarette machine. Remus followed and watched as Sirius dug around for coins in the pocket of his jeans. He could see that Sirius' hands were shaking, so when he finally found some coins, they slipped from between his fingers and skittered away over the pavement.

"Shit!" Sirius said. He kicked the wall. "Fucking, buggering shit!" he shouted, punching his fist into the cigarette machine. "Fucking sodding bollocky shit!" He kicked the wall again, his voice breaking suspiciously on the last word.

Remus stepped behind Sirius and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Padfoot..." he said again, and this time Sirius didn't flinch, he turned to Remus, shaking all over.

"Fucking sod, Remus! Why the fuck do these things have to happen? Why the bloody fuck is nothing ever fucking easy?" he yelled.

Remus kept a hand on Sirius' shoulder and looked at him, steadily, calmly. He understood that Sirius' anger wasn't directed at him. He had seen this before. This was how Sirius reacted to emotional crisis. Anger was Sirius' weapon, as much as silence was Remus'. He met Sirius' intense stare calmly, trying to hide his shock as he realised that the reason the other boy was trembling wasn't the cold. Sirius was crying.

Remus stepped closer, unimpressed by the stream of invectives still coming from Sirius. He gripped the other boy's shoulder more tightly. "Sirius..." he said, his tone low and concerned.

Sirius looked at him, anger melting, slowly replaced by vulnerability that made Remus' heart ache. "Why do things like this happen, Moony? Why doesn't anybody ever teach you how to deal with things like this?"

"Things like what?" Remus whispered. His fingers clenched around the handle of his umbrella.

Sirius closed his eyes. "I got an owl from Andromeda tonight. My father died this morning."

"Sirius..." Remus said, again. It seemed he'd run out of things to say other than Sirius' name, but it seemed to be enough, for Sirius made a hesitant movement and a second later Remus dropped the umbrella and wrapped his arms around the other boy, pulling him into a hug.

Sirius' arms came around him and his body pressed against Remus' with a grateful whimper. Remus held on tightly as shivering sobs wracked the other boy's body. Sirius hid his face on Remus' shoulder and Remus petted the wet black hair, making instinctual, soothing noises in the back of his throat.

The rain soaked him in seconds, but Remus didn't care. He concentrated all his attention on Sirius, who was sobbing out his grief, anger and confusion against Remus. Sirius had never gotten along with his father, had disliked him even, but Remus understood all too well how something you hated could still be a part of you, still be irrevocably tied to you through flesh, blood and history.

He pressed the side of his face to Sirius' black locks and held on more tightly. Raindrops were dripping into his collar from his own wet hair. The wind had picked up. Remus' clothes were sticking to him, but the warmth of Sirius' body against his made him dizzy and took away the worst sting of the cold. He could feel Sirius' breath on his neck, Sirius' arms around his waist, hands gripping at his wet clothes as if Remus was the anchor and Sirius the ship in the storm.

The other boy's sobs shivered through him in longer intervals, finally replaced by deep, calming breaths, and still Remus held on, trying to ignore his aching heart.

Around them, the rain obscured the night.

\+ -+ 

Remus didn't know how to have this conversation. He had little experience with grief. He didn't know what to say, how to start with this. Maybe he wasn't supposed to say anything at all, he mused as he watched Sirius from the side.

They hadn't said a word in the quarter of an hour since Sirius had pulled back from Remus' embrace, wiped his nose on the back of his hand and had said, in a low, unsteady voice, "Let's get back upstairs."

Remus had picked up a few coins and bought Sirius' cigarettes before following him upstairs.

They had pulled off their dripping wet clothes in silence, facing away from each other, though he had been able to feel Sirius' eyes on his naked back. He'd cast a drying charm on his boxers, but had hung up the rest of his clothes to air-dry. He'd handed a blanket to Sirius, wrapped another around himself and had sat down on the couch, facing Sirius, who stared out of the window with a fixed gaze.

After his brief but violent outbreak all the fire seemed to have gone out of Sirius, and he was once again withdrawn into stillness. His hand was playing idly with the fringes of the blanket, but it seemed more an automatism of fingers that didn't have a cigarette to play with. The rest of Sirius' body was still.

Remus closed his eyes, leaned his cheek against the back of the couch and let tiredness drift over him. He knew Sirius wouldn't talk as long as Remus was staring at him. But really, how could anyone help staring at Sirius, especially when his hair was disheveled and the lines of his face were drawn in this mixture of streetlight, fire and darkness?

Remus sighed and willed his thoughts into other directions. It wasn't very nice, after all, to contemplate how worthy Sirius was of being stared at when his friend's father had just died. Even if it was true. Besides, he had no intention at all to open that particular can of worms. He settled more comfortably on the couch, closed his eyes and admitted silently that, if he was completely honest with himself, that particular can of worms had never really been closed.

"Moony?"

Remus flinched in surprise. His eyes flew open and focused on Sirius, who didn't look at him, but his hands still playing with the faded red and white fringes of the blanket. "Yes?"

"I don't know what to say."

Remus suppressed a smile at the almost petulant note in Sirius' voice. Without thinking, he reached out and clasped one of Sirius' hands with his own. "Me neither," he said quietly.

Sirius looked up, a ghost of a smile flittering over his face. "After all, I hated the bastard. Why does this affect me at all? I should shrug it off and go for a beer."

A muscle in Remus' cheek twitched. That was exactly what James would have told Sirius to do. Exactly what Sirius didn't want. Exactly why Sirius had come to him, not to James. Because Remus wasn't the `forget about it, let's have a beer and talk about Quidditch' type. And he'd almost thought...

He sighed, made to release Sirius' hand, but the other boy turned his palm up and held on to Remus' fingers with his own. He registered the flash of a plea in Sirius' eyes, a plea the other boy didn't dare to voice, and Remus relented, squeezing Sirius' hand reassuringly. He never had been able to say no to these eyes, especially when all they asked for was an uncomplicated gesture of support.

"You may have hated him, but he was still your father," Remus said, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. His palm was slightly sweaty against Sirius'.

Sirius sighed and dropped his eyes to their joined hands, as if to reassure himself of the reality of the touch. "Yes, that he was." Sirius paused and took up the bottle of Firewhisky with his free hand. He took a swig and turned his eyes back on Remus, saying in a voice raw from the alcohol and suppressed emotion, "He taught me my first hex, did I tell you that?"

Remus shook his head.

"Jelly-legs," Sirius continued. "He made me practice it on the House- elf. He was proud of how fast I learned it. Took me to the Magical Revue as a treat. Same night Mother berated me because I'd neglected to tell her that my friend Aretha from Wizarding Elementary was a half-blood. I told her I'd never asked her about her parentage and she slapped me for my thoughtlessness. Then she lost control completely and beat me bloody for showing so little judgement in my friends."

"How old were you?" Remus asked in a whisper.

"Eight."

"What did your father do when your mother beat you?"

Sirius sighed. "Nothing. He watched. After a while he got bored and left. Told me next day to watch who I was friends with so mother wouldn't be `forced to teach me a lesson' again. Then he gave me a Chocolate Frog and sent me off to torture the house elf a bit more."

Remus swallowed and grasped Sirius' hand more tightly. He could imagine how confusing this had to be, feeling connected to something this loathsome.

"He never beat me himself. He only ever watched." Sirius' voice was dripping with disgust. "He mostly ignored my existence after I was sorted into Gryffindor, until he couldn't ignore me any longer. Then he kicked me out. I can still remember him shouting at me, `You're a disgrace, you're not worthy of my name, you're not my son.' Bastard." Pressed out between clenched teeth.

"And now he's dead," Sirius said matter-of-factly in a flat, expressionless voice, stark contrast to the bitterness in his previous words.

A short silence settled as Remus waited for Sirius to continue, but the other boy seemed to have run out of things to say. Remus didn't know if Sirius expected him to say anything, but he ventured a thought. "Now he's dead, and you can't ever tell him what a bastard he was. How much he's hurt you. How much of a failure he was as your father. Now you can't force him to notice you as your own person and not just an extension of him. He'll never see you now and be proud of you in spite of your differences." He reached up and gently turned Sirius' face towards him, looked into the other boy's eyes - so blue, how could they be so blue - and continued, voice as gentle as his touch. "It's all right to be sad about lost chances, Padfoot."

Sirius nodded and blinked the tears back. "I know. Thanks." Another ghost of a smile.

Remus smiled softly. He watched as Sirius leaned back to rest his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. "I'm so tired," he whispered.

"It's been a long night," Remus replied quietly, resisting the urge to run his hand through Sirius' hair. He contented himself with squeezing Sirius' fingers between his.

Silence settled once again between them. Remus crossed his legs under himself and watched the even rise and fall of Sirius' breath. It didn't take long for him to realise that Sirius had fallen asleep, still clasping Remus' hand even in slumber.

Remus felt exhausted, physically and emotionally, yet he could not bring himself to untangle Sirius' fingers from his own and go to bed. Instead, he held Sirius' hand between both of his and watched the even rise and fall of Sirius' chest, listened to his friend's breathing. It was soothing, lulling him into a state of dazed semi- consciousness, in which his head sank down until he buried it against Sirius' warmth, Sirius' smell.

Sirius murmured something in his sleep and Remus woke again, jerking away, panting.

Bugger. How long had he struggled against this...warmth, this silly, stupid infatuation? How long had he, consciously and unconsciously, fought not to fall in love with Sirius, only to be shown again and again the futility of his battle? How long had he told himself that it was hopeless, how many times had he turned away with a shake of his head at his own folly, only to discover now of all times what he'd known for a while but hadn't been willing to admit?

It was appallingly clear to him in the dim light of the room, appallingly evident in the way his eyes kept returning to Sirius' face, relaxed and too handsome in sleep. He was in love with Sirius.

The splattering rhythmic sounds of the rain against the closed window seemed to mock his entirely unsurprising conclusion. Of course he was in love with Sirius. Everybody who wasn't Slytherin was in love with Sirius, one way or the other. Even James. Even Peter, for Merlin's sake. Even if in their case it was the entirely platonic manly fascination with a peer who was everything they aspired to be, or in James' case, everything he saw in himself as well.

And he, shy, unobtrusive, colourless, boring Remus Lupin with his grey hair and his aching bones, with his eighteen years that felt like five and a hundred all at once, what did he have to say for himself, what excuse did he have to fall for Sirius?

None. Except that he knew. He knew so much more than anyone else about Sirius. He alone had scratched at the glittering veneer. He alone had discovered the raw, unmasked, frightened and utterly fallible human being underneath. He alone had discovered that Sirius Black was indeed only human, and capable of falling as hard and fast as he flew. And that alone had been enough to make Remus fear Sirius, bone-deeply fear him, and yet love him and want him with the same aching intensity. Because Sirius unmasked was still Sirius, only infinitely more beautiful.


	3. Chapter three

~Warmth. Hair brushing his face. Fingers trailing over his ribs. A shiver running through his frame. Lips pressed to his, cool wet drops of rain on his tongue. Blue, blue eyes gazing at him. "Remus." Sirius' voice in his ear. "Remus."~

Remus tumbled out of the dream, starting awake with a startled noise escaping from the back of his throat, breathing heavily both with surprise and the lingering arousal from his dream. His mouth was dry and his skin still prickled from imagined sensations, but through all this he felt the stare heavily on his oversensitive skin, and turned his head towards the source of it.

Sirius was sitting on the floor next to his bed, back pressed to the wall, expression unreadable in the early dawn light. His eyes were fixed on Remus, intent and heavy.

Remus met Sirius' eyes and fell into the stare, a headfirst tumble into electricity. A spark went off in his brain and charged the very air around them, between them.

There was something both frightening and exhilaratingly heady about being the focus of these eyes. Sirius seemed to want to crack him open, undress him, unravel Remus' every secret with his eyes alone as the blue gaze bored into Remus'.

Dimly, absently, Remus noticed that it was still raining as the charged silence expanded until Remus felt he could not have spoken even if he had anything to say.

Time stretched as they stared at each other, holding each other's eyes captive. Remus' heart beat so loudly he was sure the whole room was filled with the sounds of his heartbeats. Breath was short; tension was running up and down his spine, over his skin in patterns he felt Sirius' eyes to have taken while he'd slept. Desire was coursing through him and over him, and he shifted the bedclothes slightly to hide his arousal.

There was no mistaking the heat in Sirius' gaze, the focused desire, the greedy fascination that kept Sirius' eyes glued to his. Remus wanted to bathe in that fascination, wanted to soak it up until he was saturated and never let it out of his skin again, but at the same time he felt the fear in the back of his head. The part of him that always kept the beast at bay whispered how easy it would be to be burned, consumed by everything that was Sirius, how easy it was for Sirius to make Remus bleed. But a part of him wanted to bleed, wanted to be consumed, wanted to howl.

That, more than anything, brought him up short. The edge loomed near, and suddenly he was afraid of falling into Sirius' eyes, into the promise of heat.

With difficulty, he looked away and the world returned to him, the cold light of dawn, the incessant rain that had lulled him to sleep too few hours ago after he'd finally roused himself out of contemplation of Sirius' sleeping form and gone to bed. He noticed that it was distinctly odd for even Sirius to sit on the floor in his bedroom before dawn just to watch him sleep. He cleared his throat and said in a voice raw from sleep, "What are you doing in here?"

Sirius shrugged and looked down at his hands. Remus only now noticed that he was holding something that looked like a letter. "I was waiting for you to wake up, but you were restless, so I thought I'd wake you." Sirius' eyes turned a shade darker. "I thought you had a nightmare," he added in a husky voice that scratched its way down Remus' spine.

He shuddered, then hoped that Sirius hadn't noticed, hoped the faint light also hid his blush. "What's that in your hand?"

Sirius held up the parchment. "Letter from my father's estate lawyer. Arrived about half an hour ago. The family owl had trouble finding me, apparently." Sirius voice sounded off, as if he was trying and failing to sound casual.

"What does it say?" Remus asked when it was clear that Sirius wouldn't say anything more.

Another too-casual shrug. Remus noticed that Sirius was shivering slightly and Remus inclined his head towards the bed, moving his legs to make a space for Sirius to sit on. The gesture dated back to Remus' earliest days in the Hogwarts infirmary, when Sirius had been his most frequent visitor.

Sirius looked at Remus oddly for a moment, then smiled wistfully and took a seat at the foot end of the bed, handing Remus the parchment. "See for yourself."

Remus lit his wand and read the letter, written in the sprawly formal script he recognised from the message Sirius had gotten the day he'd been disowned by his parents, informing him that he'd lost all rights and titles the name of Black entailed.

He looked up. "Your father left you a house? Weren't you disinherited?"

Sirius nodded, but didn't look at Remus. "Yes, I was. No idea what this is about." He shrugged again and made a few fidgety gestures with his hands. "The old blighter was always completely unpredictable."

Remus looked at the paper again. "Do you know the house?"

Sirius shook his head. "No, at least not from the address." He looked up from his hands. The heat was gone, so completely that Remus wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it after all. There was only a slightly desperate plea left in these blue eyes, a `don't leave me alone' look Remus recognised all too well from the days and weeks after the Shack incident. "Come with me to look at it?"

Remus looked out of the window, at the rain and the wind. "It's still raining and we'd have to take the motorcycle."

"I'll cast an impervious charm." A pause before Sirius continued, voice little more than a whisper. "Please, Moony. I have to know."

Remus suppressed the urge to reach out, to touch, cradle close and protect Sirius from whatever it might be that made him sound so cracked open. He allowed himself only to lay a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Let's get dressed then."

+-+

Remus gestured at the house in front of him and said, "This is quite..." he cast around for an adjective to apply to the building, but his mind failed to supply one.

Sirius snorted, still leaning against the motorcycle and trying to light a cigarette even though it was pouring. "Yes, isn't it?"

Remus sighed, the breath of air visible in a small cloud in front of his mouth. He ran his hand through his soaked hair and suppressed another sigh. Sirius was a very powerful wizard and his charm-casting ability was excellent but they should really have known that they would take longer than half an hour to get to the house. The charm had worn off in mid-air, and they both had been soaked to the skin - again - in moments.

Remus usually really liked for Sirius to fly him around on the motorcycle, but this morning it had been more than a little uncomfortable, mainly because after the last twelve hours he was entirely too aware of where to put his hands on a very wet Sirius Black. The t-shirt under his grip had stuck to Sirius' skin, and the rainy scent of Sirius' hair and the heat that had risen from the body pressed all too closely to Remus had done their share to upset Remus' already shaky equilibrium.

For the second time in less than a minute he suppressed a sigh - he'd start hyperventilating soon - when he felt Sirius' eyes on him. He turned and met the look with an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

Sirius gave him a small smile. "Sorry I got you all wet again," he said, his voice low and dark and just this side of a purr.

Remus suppressed a shiver and looked away from the spark in the blue eyes. Sometimes he hated it that Sirius could cut through his walls and defences as if they were butter. At other times he needed it more than air.

He wondered sometimes at the effect they had on each other. Each was able to drive the other to complete distraction, force the other out of carefully erected walls into the spotlight of each other's contemplation. Nobody but him had ever seen Sirius cry. Nobody but Sirius had ever heard Remus scream. It was a miracle that they were still friends, that they hadn't killed each other already, or that they hadn't made raw, brutal, passionate love against the next wall. But it wasn't as if Remus hadn't devoted a great deal of thought on both.

He started when Sirius' hand fell on his shoulder, heavy and warm. "So what do you think?"

Remus wrenched his attention back to the reason of their journey and forced himself to view the house without preconcepted notions of what they might find within. From the outside it looked like a relatively normal two-story house. In front of it there was a small garden, and three steps led up to a small porch. The windows, the roof and shutters were of course painted black and the entire house practically vibrated with magic, but from the outside it seemed almost..."Cosy."

Sirius snorted again. "Really funny, Moony. My family doesn't own anything that's cosy."

He took a step closer towards the gate in the fence and motioned for Remus to follow. "The real question is: do you think it'll explode when we go in?"

Remus looked at the house sceptically. "Difficult to say. Why do you think your father left it to you?"

Sirius sighed, tried to take a drag of his soaked cigarette, then threw it away in disgust. "I don't know."

Remus took a step towards him, put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around so he could look at his friend. "But you have a suspicion."

Sirius nodded and looked up to meet Remus' eyes. He smiled suddenly and pushed a strand of wet hair from Remus' brow. He opened his mouth, but shut it again before any sound emerged, obviously catching himself. Shaking his head, he pulled his hand away and gestured towards the house. "My father once told me about a family tradition. There are certain items in the Black family fortune that are magically tied to the eldest male member of the main Black line. Among others he mentioned a house that was specifically passed down from father to son and was always to be held by the first-born male heir. It's tied to the heir with old magic. It's supposed to protect him, guarantee his safety and his privacy." Sirius paused for a moment and turned his gaze away from Remus and towards the house. "When I was disinherited, the right of the first-born passed to Regulus automatically. But it seems as if my father left this house cued to me."

Remus frowned, entirely puzzled. "Why?"

Sirius made an angry sound in the back of his throat. "Isn't it obvious, Remus? It's his last chance of forcing my heritage on me, forcing me to accept that I'm a Black and no amount of running and rebelling will change that. It's in the blood, in the magic. It's the last damned claw he's digging into my life from beyond the grave. The last reminder that I am his son and always will be, no matter how much I might hate it."

Remus looked back at the house, standing there in the rain, looking for all the world like a harmless home. But Remus knew enough of Sirius' family to see it for what it really was. The door to a cage. A tangible reminder of everything Sirius wouldn't be able to escape. It was Sirius' wolf.

"What are you going to do with it?" he asked, voice unsteady.

Sirius shrugged. "Don't know. I think I should probably look at it before deciding, don't you think?"

Remus nodded, eyeing the house warily. He didn't want Sirius to go in. He resented the claim it staked on Sirius. The territorial pack animal in him raised its hackles at the scent of another pack. Sirius belonged with Remus, to his pack, his family. Remus fought the urge to growl.

He took his hand from Sirius' shoulder and rubbed his fingers together to get them warm again. "Well... but we'd better be careful. We'll probably have to de-curse every square inch of the property if you keep it."

Sirius frowned sceptically. "I'm not keeping it. Under no circumstances. But we should probably have a look inside nonetheless, if only to get you out of the rain." Sirius' voice softened on the second part of the sentence, and Remus smiled.

"I'm not made out of sugar, you know."

Sirius smiled back, softly, gently. "No, chocolate more likely."

Remus couldn't resist. "So you're saying I'm not sweet as sugar?"

Sirius swallowed and stared at Remus' lips for a few moments that were enough to make Remus' stomach do flip-flops. Sirius licked his lips unconsciously and returned his eyes to Remus'. "I always thought you'd be..." he said quietly, then seemed to catch himself and blushed. "That is," he said, a bit more loudly, "I always preferred chocolate to sugar, anyway. Want to go in?"

He turned and stalked towards the house, and Remus followed, bemused, hot, bothered, and quite thankful for the rain to cool his skin. He realised that something had shifted in the air between him and Sirius in the last few hours, had unsettled the balance.

The weight of his jacket was heavy against his body as he walked, trying to catch up with Sirius. They crossed the small garden quickly and Remus felt the prickle of the proximity to protective wards make the hair on his arms stand up.

Sirius turned to him at the bottom of the steps and held out his hand. "Here, you need to touch me to be able to pass through the wards."

Remus took Sirius' hand after only a second of hesitation and let himself be pulled up the stairs. The sensation of rain on his face suddenly stopped as they stepped under the protective shelter of the porch. Remus turned his face up, almost missing the drops cooling his skin. He licked his lips to catch the fresh taste of the rain.

A small whimper from next to him brought his eyes to Sirius' and his breathing stopped when he saw Sirius' hungry stare devouring him, his lips. He stared back, helpless, and he knew his own hunger shone back at Sirius. A soft sound escaped from the back of his throat, not quite a growl.

Sirius took a step back, still holding his hand, leading Remus with him until Sirius had his back against one of the columns supporting the roof of the porch, his eyes boring into Remus' with a silent question. Remus exhaled audibly, almost a gasp, and that seemed to be answer enough for Sirius, who tugged him close.

Words spluttered and died on Remus' tongue and in his brain as slightly cold, soft, wet lips pressed against his.

It was so much better than Remus could have ever thought it would be. Hot breath, hot tongue, lips that tasted like rain and smoke and something earthy that could only be Sirius himself. He whimpered and buried his hands in Sirius' wet hair as he fell, into the kiss, into sensation, into Sirius. Slide of tongue, lips caressing, breath against his skin. So hot, so soft, so wet, so unbearably good.

Sirius drew back and Remus whimpered again at the loss of contact, unable and unwilling to articulate. Sirius' eyes were smoky and unfocused and so incredibly blue when he looked at Remus. "Remus, I..." he whispered but didn't get any further because Remus pulled him back and licked his upper lip, capturing the tantalising drops of rain there, and Sirius seemed to give up on talking then and they kissed again, hungry, devouring, eating alive, trying to consume each other through one wet-hot point of contact. Sirius' hands fisted in Remus' jacket and he burrowed closer to Remus, making a needy sound into Remus' mouth that drove Remus even further into the kiss. He lost all sense of time, all awareness of their surroundings, abandoned himself to the moment.

It took Sirius' hands on his arse, took a sharp stab of wild fear to return Remus to coherence. He tried to catch his breath and reluctantly drew back from the kiss, panting heavily. The magnitude of what had just happened tried to catch up with him, but somehow he felt a complete rightness, as if everything he and Sirius had ever done together and to each other had inevitably led to this moment, and perhaps it was indeed so.

He stepped down from the porch into the rain again to cool down his hot cheeks and burning head. He heard Sirius follow, but didn't turn. He needed a moment away from those eyes to think.

Sirius was his best friend and the physical attraction between them was nothing new. But it had taken Remus a long time, until last night in fact, to realise that the chasm between wanting his best friend for a fuck and wanting him for a lover, a mate, a partner, was wider than the Grand Canyon and much more fatal. Remus had discovered last night that he wanted so much more from Sirius than physical passion. He wanted Sirius' heart, his trust, wanted to be the one he came to when troubled, wanted to be the one who knew all his secrets, all his dreams and desires. He wanted Sirius for himself, whole, forever; in short, he wanted them to belong to each other, with each other. He had no idea what Sirius wanted, or why he'd chosen this exact moment to snog Remus senseless, when it was entirely subscribable to his emotional insecurity and confusion.

A hand touched his shoulder. "Moony..." No more than a whisper, almost apologetic.

Remus turned, cinders of anger in his stomach. He didn't want apologies. He wanted this to be out between them, once and for all. They'd been carrying this around with them for too long. He raised his eyes to Sirius' face, who looked entirely too scared and vulnerable for Remus' taste, and cleared his throat. "Tell me one thing, Sirius."

Sirius nodded. "Anything," he whispered. Just talk to me, went unspoken. An echo of the Shack incident Remus still heard sometimes in the silence of his mind.

"Why did you come to me last night and not to James?"

From the surprise registering in Sirius' face, Remus knew that wasn't a question Sirius had been expecting, but Remus had to know. He had to know whether Sirius had come to him for a bit of understanding and maybe a comfort fuck, or if he'd wanted to share his sorrows and burdens with Remus and nobody else.

Sirius seemed to look for words, then looked straight at Remus as he spoke, his eyes intent on him with that heated focus that made Remus' head spin. "Because you listen. Because you understand that life's never quite as simple as that, that emotions don't have to be logical, even though you always try to control your own. And mostly," he took a hopeful step closer, " because, well... I wanted to be with you." His voice had dropped to a low whisper. "I wanted to be near you. I wanted... you. To be there with me. Not James. Not anybody else. You. And not because I knew you'd understand. Not because you can read me better than anyone. But because I wanted it to be you."

Remus was speechless, again. Disbelief warred with hope as Sirius said exactly what Remus needed to hear. "But..." was all he could say.

Sirius took a step closer and pushed Remus' hair back from his forehead, his eyes full of hopeful emotion. "Moony..." he said. "Don't look at me like that. Please. Don't get all disbelieving again. I hated the way you used to look at me in sixth year, before..." he paused shortly and ran a finger over the worry lines on Remus' forehead. "You had this unbelieving, awed, grateful look, like you couldn't quite believe that I would notice you. I don't want you to be grateful, Moony. I don't deserve to be breathed at by you, and you know it. I'm a wanker and an idiot, and you know it, too, but for what it's worth, I lo..."

Remus couldn't hear more or his heart would burst from overload. He pressed his lips to Sirius' to shut him up, kissed him deeply, passionately, answered all of Sirius' tactile, probing questions with the heat of contact, fisting his hands in Sirius' hair again.

Sirius broke the kiss with a broad smile. "I'll take that as a yes, then?" he asked, a bit breathlessly.

Remus smiled back, dazed. "You haven't asked me anything, you berk."

"Can't have that," Sirius murmured and pressed his cheek to Remus', whispering in Remus' ear, "Want to come back to the flat with me?"

Remus drew back and looked at Sirius for a long time, into the eyes that stared back at him, shining with emotion and dark with desire, asking for his trust, his faith. He swallowed and took the last step over the edge. "Yes."

+-+

Remus never knew how they got back to the flat, how they got into the bedroom, how his hands got under Sirius' jacket to peel it off his body, but he didn't really care all that much.

They fumbled with buttons, never breaking the kisses, and Remus asked himself dimly if he was still asleep when he peeled the wet t-shirt from Sirius' skin. He let out a small whimper of desire as his hand touched the wet skin of Sirius' stomach, trailed the line of hair from his navel to his groin, and Sirius kissed him more passionately than ever, until Remus didn't even care anymore if this was real.

He didn't know exactly how they got to the bed either, didn't know how Sirius got to lying on top of him, but the only thing he really cared about now was more contact, more skin against his.

There were slow, long, deep kisses, reverent touches, a glide of hands and lips over his body, soft breaths of devotion against his skin. He was explored, mapped, turned inside out under Sirius' touch. He wanted to reach out, get his hands all over Sirius' skin, to touch him everywhere, claim every bit of this new-found territory for himself, but Sirius arrested his wandering hands, rocking their bodies together and seducing Remus into boneless pleasure with deep kisses. Remus murmured a protest, but Sirius drew back and looked at him.

"Let me. Please." A breath of a plea against his lips, and Remus nodded.

"Later," he whispered back, and Sirius smiled in a way that melted Remus' spine.

"Yes. Later," Sirius answered, looking as amazed as Remus felt, and Remus just had to kiss him again. And again. And again for good measure. And then he gave up doing anything else but feel.

Their limbs wound around each other as they rocked together, drifting more deeply into breathless, mindless pleasure. Everywhere their bodies touched, it sparked heat over Remus' skin. He moaned as his hardness brushed against Sirius' and swallowed the other boy's gasp with his greedy lips, rocking his hips forward to get more contact, more heat, more of that incredibly hot sound Sirius made in the back of his throat. He broke the kiss to look into Sirius' eyes as he moved his hips again. Sirius was staring at him, devouring him with his eyes, and Remus laid himself open to that gaze. Under Sirius' intense stare, Remus felt like the centre of the universe. He felt important. Desired. Loved.

Sirius rocked into him, and Remus pressed back, trembling, into the contact. Years of familiarity, of running together as wolf and dog, made it easy for them to find a rhythm, sliding flesh against hard, begging flesh. Remus trembled, quivered, felt responding tremors run through Sirius' form above him. He felt Sirius' mouth on his neck, Sirius' fingers etching traces of sensation into his skin, and all the while this delicious friction, and Sirius' smell in his nose, musky and warm and rainwater-fresh. He traced the lingering drops of rain mingling with sweat on Sirius' back, collected them, licked them from his finger, then bit down on a pale shoulder as Sirius gasped and the rocks became thrusts, questioning touches became demanding, the heat between them became fire and Remus trembled so hard he thought he'd break any minute now, and then he did, shattered into a million pieces, and Sirius shattered with him, all over him.

It took a long time for the will to do anything more than catch his breath came out of the incoherent mess his being had been reduced to. He was deliciously aware of Sirius' weight on him, Sirius' smell on him, all over him, and his smell all over Sirius. Sirius' heart beat wildly against his. Remus closed his eyes and basked.

"Moony..." Sirius whispered what could have been a few minutes or a few hours later.

Reluctantly, Remus opened his eyes. "Hm?"

Sirius raised his head from Remus' chest and smiled down at him. "You're usually much more articulate than that. I'll take it as a compliment."

"Mh," Remus replied, too focused on watching the love bite on Sirius' shoulder to care much about what the other boy said.

"Moony," Sirius said again, "I... I just wanted you to know that this isn't a fling for me. Or a one-minute whim. I've... well, I've loved you for ages, and I... hell, I never thought you'd ever look at me again after everything I did, and I'm so grateful that you did."

Remus stared at the love bite. Teeth marks. His teeth marks. On Sirius' body. He heard himself growl. "Sirius..."

Sirius looked up, anxious. "Yes?"

Remus' eyes glinted with feral intent. "Shut up."

He pulled Sirius close and kissed him passionately while rolling them so that he was on top.

Sirius pulled back, breathless. "Later is now?"

Remus grinned. "Yes."

Sirius' answer was lost breath in Remus' lungs.

+-+

It was hours later and neither of them had any energy left to move. Remus had his head pillowed in the vicinity of Sirius' right nipple and Sirius' hands were tracing lazy patterns over Remus' back.

"So when was it exactly you decided you fancied me, then?" Sirius asked lightly, tracing his fingers over the bumps of Remus' spine.

Remus rested his chin on Sirius' breastbone and looked up, smiling. "Who says I fancy you?"

Sirius grinned, sexual satiation and cocky confidence radiating off him in waves. In the past, that look had annoyed Remus. Now he found it oddly arousing. "Well, the fact that you just shagged me rotten was kind of an indicator."

"Oh, that..." Remus waved a hand dismissively and planted a kiss on Sirius' breastbone before resting his chin there again. "I do that with all my devastatingly handsome, irresistibly cocky and completely moronic friends."

"What, you're shagging James too?" Sirius exclaimed in mock outrage.

Remus broke into helpless laughter and smothered it against Sirius' skin.

Warm hands lifted his face, and Sirius' fingers trailed over his features, gently, lovingly. "I love it when I make you laugh," Sirius said, all humour gone from his eyes.

Remus kissed Sirius' palm. "You're the only one who can make me laugh like this."

There was a glint in Sirius' eyes. "I better be."

Remus looked at him earnestly. "You are."

Both of them heard what Remus didn't say, the promise he'd just made.

Sirius swallowed. "You're the only one who... the only one, Moony," he whispered. Promise returned.

Remus smiled and moved in for a long, languorous kiss.

When they broke apart, Sirius asked, "So can I assume that I don't have to stay on the couch?"

Remus made a show of considering it. "All right, but if you snore, I'll kick you out."

Sirius snorted. "As if we'll get any sleep tonight."

"You have a point there," Remus admitted and settled against Sirius again, throwing his leg possessively over his lover's.

His lover. Sirius Black, his lover. His boyfriend. His mate. He liked the sound of that.

"We still need to get your motorcycle," he murmured against the side of Sirius' neck, breathing in their mingled scent there. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin.

Sirius shuddered. "Sod the bike, I'll get it tomorrow," he said and tilted his neck to give Remus' lips better access.

"And what are you going to do with the house?" Remus asked, nibbling on Sirius' neck.

"Ah... um, sell it and give the money to the Society for Better Understanding Between Muggles and Wizards?"

Remus laughed and bit down on Sirius' neck. "Good idea," he murmured and devoted all of his attention to Sirius' skin.

Sirius moved his head toward the window. "Look, Moony, it's stopped raining."

"That's nice," Remus said absently and kissed Sirius again.

End


End file.
